Singular
by koneko zero
Summary: Hermione had known as soon as the three of them were asked that she'd be going back to Hogwarts alone for her seventh year.


**Title:** Singular

**Spoilers:** Up to the end of DH (non-epilogue)

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Hermione had known as soon as the three of them were asked that she'd be going back to Hogwarts alone.

**Disclaimer:** Ahh, I wish it was mine. However, this is "fanfiction" for a reason.

* * *

**SINGULAR**

The scenery behind the glass flashes by at an incredible rate, and terror mounts within Hermione's ribs. Hogwarts is getting closer by the second, and Harry and Ron are at the Ministry.

In the end, she had known from the moment that they were asked that she would be the only member of the "Golden Trio" to take up the kind offer for all students to return and re-take their last year. The loss of Fred was too recent and too raw for Ron to cope with returning to the site of his murder, and Harry – being the utter idiot he could be at the worst possible times – had taken to blaming himself for every life lost during Voldemort's last stand. Much as he loves Hogwarts, she knows that he need to be out there doing something, anything; fighting the good fight until he can get his head back to something resembling level.

Hermione herself had ended up turning down the Head Girl badge she was offered for similar reasons, but she had to finish school. She had to. If there was one thing that could heal her, it would be normalcy. Lessons, homework, library. The praise for schoolwork well done would be a very welcome change from praise for murdering fellow humans who had made bad choices or were victims of their parents' stupidity.

In actual fact, she'd even had to argue vehemently against being given an armed guard to "protect" her from such "scum".

Admittedly she'd been taken aback by the number of Slytherins returning. When Ron and Harry had found out that even Malfoy was being allowed back (on probation, of course) there had been a three-day argument regarding her own return. However. He'd tried, a little, to protect them back at the Mansion on the Night-She-Doesn't-Think-Of by claiming he wasn't sure, he hadn't fought them, and his mother had saved Harry. He'd been unable to kill Dumbledore, despite all the factors pushing him onwards.

He'd been taught the same as his parents, and he'd been scared. He'd made bad choices. Choices he appeared to sorely regret.

She had nothing to fear from Draco Malfoy.

And as a highly intelligent young woman and skilled witch, she definitely had no need of a guard.

Her boys (and, indeed, the rest of the Weasleys) still weren't very pleased with her thanks to that. It was why Ginny was down in an armoured carriage with a junior Auror, rather than smiling and joking next to her, trying to make her forget her horrible terror and the two empty seats facing her.

She hadn't missed Bill's mutter of, "If anything happens to her, it's her own damned fault."

Perhaps she was being stupid and foolhardy. Perhaps she might be overestimating her own ability. However. The last thing people needed to see was Hermione Granger, "one third of Voldemort's defeat," walking around with a guard - no matter how much he "wouldn't be in the way." The War was supposed to be over. People were supposed to feel safe now. Her having a bodyguard would only cause concern.

Of course, he could have been useful as company. He could have carried her trunk and miniature library around too.

She misses her boys.

She misses George quite especially too, strange as it feels to admit. She'd come to enjoy their late talks, their discussions and minor arguments. It's odd, but it's Hermione that he's become closest to, that he almost clings to, these days. She thinks it most likely has something to do with the fact that she was the first to shout at him, the first to tell him to "stop being such a bloody prat, George!" since the battle. She's been able to tell them apart for years – it's not in their appearances, although if you look closely enough there are differing scars from experiments gone awry, but in their tones and stances – so she doesn't see Fred when she looks at him. Not so vividly, at least. It's more like seeing echoes of a well-loved actor or a dearly missed teacher in the face of a friend, rather than seeing dear, lost Fred where only George should be. So whilst she feels the pain of their loss like a knife twisting in her gut, she can and will treat George as she usually does.

She knows from experience that, after the first wave of agony and apathy, it's sometimes all you want to ask for.

It helps her, as well, to help him. It helps to heal her own scars, bit by bit, to be working in for someone rather than against so very many.

It definitely helps to hear him whisper, "Good luck, Herm," and, "You'd better write regularly, or I'll be sending you a Weasley toilet seat," when everyone else has merely grunted or sighed a little. Or failed to show up at all, in the case of her parents. She understands them all, really she does, she isn't the smartest girl in school for nothing and her logic is (as she proved all those years ago) flawless. She knows they need time. She knows. However. That she has such knowledge doesn't mean that her emotions are in line with her understanding.

She has to set them aside though. She knows she's made mistakes, and she understands that protecting people can hurt them. She was simply aiming for there to be less pain than there would be if she didn't act. It still doesn't exonerate her. She deserves a little pain. She can handle a little pain. She had, after all, taken away her parents memories – their lives – and packed them off to Australia. Whether or not it was for their own protection, it had hurt them. The looks they gave her when they remembered everything, like she was dangerous–

She doesn't think about that.

Hermione had already changed into her robes an hour and a half ago, just for something to do, but now she wishes she had left that distraction for this inevitable moment.

Telling herself not to think doesn't help. Thinking is her default mode – there is, according to her boys, no problem she can't think her way out of. She knows they're joking, and mean it fondly. Until recently it was almost flattering, although she was always sure to roll her eyes for them. Still. Somehow she hasn't been able to bear correcting them yet – can't bear admitting that she's stumped by her own family.

The door opening wouldn't usually be enough to distract her, but the flash of platinum blonde hair draws her eyes up. Draco seems about as sure of what to do as she is.

"Sorry." There's something she never thought she'd hear from him.

"It's fine."

He's still hovering in the doorway. Surprisingly looking more nervous than angry, as though he's tiring to work up to-

Oh, heck.

"Only spare seat," they say together.

"There's another with the Weasley girl, if you-"

"No. I'll stay, thanks. We're currently in disagreement on a couple of issues."

_I'll stay_, she said. She hadn't realised the implication until he takes a cautious step into the compartment and hurriedly sits down.

She looks up at the mumble of, "Thanks," and just catches the rash of red bursting over his pale nose and cheekbones.

She knows who he is, what he's done… What he tried to do. What he allowed to happen. She still can't stop the warm smile on her lips, or the welcoming tone as she answers with a "You're welcome."

* * *

There's silence. She would expect it to be horrendously awkward, but the lack of antagonism on either side seems to be helping it. Perhaps, after May's battle and his rescue at their hands, there isn't really much to argue about anymore.

The silence is letting her think, though, and that is not welcome.

"Who do you think we'll have for Defence?"

Draco – how odd it is that calling him that feels so natural after meeting his father that once! – stares at her like she's sprouted a second head.

"I'd be tempted to say a member of the Order, myself, but I think they're all either busy sorting everything out or taking a break. It could be someone coming in out of retirement… Do you know any of the former teachers?"

He still looks like a bludger may have collided with his skull, but he answers slowly, "No. Mother and I… We're rather out of touch with everyone at the moment. I don't know who it could be."

"Ah, a shame. It would've been nice to know what to expect, especially in NEWT year. I suppose Professor Slughorn will still be teaching Potions, unless he decided it wasn't worth it without Harry there to 'collect'…"

"I'm more interested in who the new Headmaster will be."

"Well, McGonagall was filling in, but I don't know whether she'd want to keep the post – too much work, surely, being Head of Gryffindor as well."

"Flitwick's been there long enough."

"So's Sprout, but I doubt they'd be able to pry her away from her greenhouses."

The thought of McGonagall casting _Levicorpus_ on a wildly resisting Professor Sprout sends them both into fits of laughter.

Cut short when Draco realises where he is and exactly whom he's speaking to.

Disappointment lances through Hermione, and sparks not just a little irritation.

"You know, I'm not planning anything. I'm not going to turn on you. If anyone should be worried about that it should be me, don't you think?"

"I-"

"I mean, I would've thought you'd realise something was up when you found me at the other end of the train to my friends, without a guard. That's why, by the way – I didn't want a guard, so now they're all furious."

"Gra-"

"And before you ask, it's because I do in fact have faith in other people, and don't think I'll be hexed by resentful Slytherins every five minutes; that and the image it would present to t-"

"Granger!"

She flushes immediately, knowing that she's rather embarrassed herself with her ranting, but at least he doesn't look like he's about to laugh.

"It's fine," he says, seeing she's about to apologise. "I probably shouldn't have spoiled the moment. I didn't think about Weasley, actually. Sorry you're arguing because of our lot."

She sighs, "It's not really about that, I think. Harry and Ron are a bit hurt that I'm coming back rather than moving on with them – even if they do understand why. My stubbornness just hasn't helped."

"If it's any consolation, I can tell them that the Slytherins are more likely to hex me than you. The ones who supported Him seem to be holding quite the grudge after Mother… Well. After Mother-"

"Saved us all."

He looks surprised, and opens his mouth to protest, but she's faster.

"She protected Harry. For you, yes, but it saved us all. He'd have cursed Harry again, ended it. He survived to win thanks to your Mum. Is she ok?"

"F-Father was quite angry for a couple of days, but he can't stay angry at her. Never has been able to. Besides, we helped the winning side. He gets to salvage his status."

"I asked about your mother."

"She's been unwell." He looks awkward. "Father isn't going into Azkaban long term, but he's spending a month there and she's not handling it well. She needs him with her. Especially after the house was… I wanted to stay and help, but she says I need my NEWTs. I do. No one's going to do a Malfoy any favours at the moment." He lets out a bitter laugh. "Good thing I rival you in school."

"You do." She doesn't really know what else to say.

"Thanks."

* * *

She sees, now that she's looking for it, the cold fury in some of Draco's former friends' eyes. She may be at the opposite end of the table to Ginny, but she's not exactly ostracised. Certainly nothing like the beginning of First Year. Draco (and Blaise, which isn't a shock since she knows how far out of it his parents tried to remain) has it rather harder.

Especially as the Slytherin table isn't the only one with glares aimed at him.

Hermione hears the mutters and sees the gestures. It's quite obvious that either they don't care that the Malfoys redeemed themselves somewhat, or they see it as a plan to get back on the "winning side." As if there is such a thing in a war. As if no one deserves a second chance.

As he gets up to leave, Hermione decides that she can do without an extra helping of pudding.

"Malfoy!"

He stops, turns, and visibly drops his wand in his right pocket.

"Library?"

She hears Ginny's gasp somewhere behind her. But the abrupt lack of whispering and looks of confusion instead of glares are worth it. Besides, she's never seen Draco with a genuine smile on his face before.

"Alright, Granger."

With scandalised expressions and sounds around her, she can't help but think that George would be proud.

At least until he found out just who'd helped her cause them.

* * *

Thank you for reading! If you've a minute, please review - it really would make my day.


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